For Naomi
by Inlovewithcomedy99
Summary: Crowley seeks revenge against the one who stole her from him and ended their story.


**I've been debating whether or not to post this, and decided what the hell! This idea came from I post I saw on tumblr, in which Crowley should say "For Naomi" as he kills Metatron (which I want almost as much as I want Naomi to return). I've tried to follow the events of the series as best as possible, having only seen part of series 9 and none of 10 or 11, and I'm going on what little I have read about these so please forgive any inaccuracies or missing events. Anyway hope you enjoy.**

Some may say it seemed petty, seeking out revenge when the world was possibly coming to an end once again, but that was what he was: petty, vengeful and above all he was hurting more than he could have ever imagined. He was both furious and grateful to Castiel. Having ears everywhere, he found out with ease that Castiel had spared Metatron, and let that pathetic excuse of a creature to continue living as a human. He was furious that Metatron had been allowed to live, yet at the same time he was grateful to Castiel for giving the chance to end the miserable pest's existence himself.

Crowley couldn't believe how easy it had been to track down Metatron; he was almost surprised that none of those feathered dicks had found him, but that just made this whole thing easier. It meant that there would be no chance of anyone interfering. He didn't want anyone to take this away from him, not now he was so close that he could taste vengeance on the tip of his tongue. He had followed Metatron for about a week, observing his pathetic human life and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And today was that day. Crowley had waited patiently as Metatron had idled around, doing what he considered to be completely insignificant activities, and finally Metatron had returned to his tiny apartment, a little after midnight, setting the perfect scene for his final curtain call.

Making sure that there were no witnesses around, Crowley silently crept into Metatron's apartment, keeping to the shadows to avoid arousing the scribe's attention. For a moment he simply watched him, sat quite calmly reading a book and completely oblivious to his presence, clenching his fists as he felt a white hot rage burn from deep inside of him. _How was it fair that he was allowed to be free when…_

Stepping out of the shadows, Crowley revealed himself to the shocked ex-angel. "W-who are you?" Metatron stuttered, shuffling back on his rickety armchair, as though trying to climb over the back of it. "What do you w-want?"

Crowley chuckled darkly, feeling a slight joy at the helplessness of his victim. "The name's Crowley." He grinned, "I'm sure you've heard of me."

A smirk appeared over Metatron's face as he regarded the demon before him. "Ah yes, the King of Hell. Of course I've heard of you better never had the pleasure of being introduced."

"My apologises for not finding you sooner, things have been a little hectic recently what with different circumstances arising."

"No worries," Metatron waved his hand graciously, "Is this a social call or are you here for business reasons?"

Crowley smiled, "Business I'm afraid. But more of a personal nature."

"Oh?" Metatron raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Yes. You see," Crowley stalked forward slowly, walking in around Metatron's chair. "You've done something that I can never tolerate, let alone forgive."

"You've intrigued me," Metatron said, "What could I have possibly done to offend the King of Hell? I thought that you wouldn't care for what transpired in Heaven, in fact I assumed you of all people would be pleased at the anarchy I caused up there."

Crowley smiled sarcastically and came to a halt right in front of Metatron, "As much as I loved the light show when the angels fell, and generally approve of anything to disrupt the order of things upstairs, I'm not talking about the fall, or even what you did before and after the fall." He paused, trying to reign in his thoughts. "I'm talking about one event that you might consider minor, but to me was worse than any other offense you've ever committed in your god knows how long existence." At his confused look, Crowley uttered one word to jog his memory, "Naomi."

Metatron's eyes widened slightly, however he quickly regained his composure which pissed Crowley off even more. "Ah yes, that power hungry bitch." He laughed. "I remember her; I put a drill through the back of her skull, her own drill ironically. Yes, she didn't even have the chance to put up a fight before it was too late." He scrutinised Crowley with an inquisitive look. "Why would the death of one relatively unimportant angel bother you?"

Crowley swallowed "Because she was more than relatively important to me."

A gleam appeared in Metatron's eyes, as he leaned forward and smirked gleefully at Crowley. "Of course, so that's why you're here. You've come to avenge her, haven't you? To make me suffer for what I did?" He jumped forward, bouncing like an excited child. "Oh what possibly could the King of Hell have in store for me? Maybe an eternity of torture? Making me tell you everything I know, please do tell me!"

Crowley did not answer. He simply reached into the pocket of his coat and removed a silver object and placed onto the table beside him. Metatron regarded the object and leant back in his chair, nodding solemnly. "You intend to kill in the same way as I killed her I suppose."

"Got it in one," Crowley said, "I even went to the trouble of finding the same exact drill."

"You've obviously put a lot of thought into this."

"You could say that." He shrugged.

Metatron leaned forward again, his face filled with curiosity. "Why though? Why was she so important to you that you'd go to this much trouble to avenge her when it seems all others have forgotten?"

Crowley regarded him for a moment, weighing the advantages and disadvantages of telling him the truth, the truth that he had never admitted to another soul, not even himself. "Because she was mine, and I was her's. For millennia we played a game, never admitting to the other in words how we felt, but we didn't need to. I believe she knew how I felt for her, and I know what she felt for me. I thought we would have forever to dance along the line of what was right and wrong, and you took that away from us." He growled, feeling a lump form in his throat, his words catching against it, like his body was begging him to stop speaking. "You know, she finally said yes. After millennia of pleading and waiting, she finally agreed to leave with me, to start afresh away from all this. That's why she brought Castiel back from purgatory, and why she fought so hard to fix Heaven. She could never leave whilst her brothers and sisters still needed her, and she was trying to restore order to their chaos. I had planned every detail so carefully, come up with the ideal way to disguise ourselves from anyone who might want to find us, and then you put an end to it all, by stabbing a bloody god damned drill into her skull!" He roared the last part, finally allowing his long supressed emotions to be free.

"Fascinating." Metatron whispered. "Naomi was trying to repair heaven's weaknesses, so that she could give into her own. I can honestly say that this was a plot twist I did not see coming, and I have virtually seen them all."

"We are not characters from a book you read, our futures mapped out to the very last page." Crowley muttered bitterly.

"But don't you see," Metatron replied, the gleam returning to his eyes. "We are all characters in our own individual novels, our fates mapped out by time itself." He grinned pointing his finger to Crowley. "And I have to say, your tragic love story makes Romeo and Juliet's look lame. I mean, at least the got to be together in the afterlife, but what do you have? Angels and Demons have no souls, no afterlife. You two shall never be together again, no matter what happens. It's positively heart breaking."

"That may be," Crowley said, his voice deadpan and his face void of any emotion. "But I can at least honour her memory by helping this world and remove one more vermin from its streets." He picked up the drill again and stepped forward, grabbing Metatron's hair and roughly pulling him forward. "This is for Naomi." And with that he plunged the tip of the drill into the back of Metatron's skull, not stopping until it emerged through the skin of his forehead. He had found it greatly satisfying to watch the light disappear from the scribe's eyes, as blood trickled out of the entrance and exit wounds; however his words still rang fresh in his ears. _You two shall never be together again, no matter what happens._

He let the body slump forward in the chair, and turned to exit the apartment. Once he was outside, and felt the cool night air caressing his cheeks, he let out a breath he had not realised he had been holding. It was over now; he had finally avenged his angel. He had often mocked Dean for his attachment to Castiel, but he understood better than anyone the gaping hole that was left when they were gone. _You two shall never be together again, no matter what happens._ The words cut him like no blade could, forcing him to close his eyes to block out the pain.

He felt a gentle breeze brush against his cheek, almost like someone had brushed their knuckles tenderly against his cheek. He felt a grin break out across his face. No matter what Metatron had said, the truth was that they had never been apart. Crowley would always have his memories to keep with him, meaning that she would live on forever with him. He knew he could carry on with this.

Because in the end, all he did he did for her. For Naomi.

 **I realise that the last bit may seem a bit out of character, but I believe that deep down Crowley still has a heart, and can still feel human emotions like love and pain, but has hidden it under all the demonic stuff. Again I'd like to thank you for reading, and would really appreciate any feedback and would love to know what you thought of the story, and if there are still any Crowley/Naomi shippers still out there.**


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